Knights in a sea of languages

THERE aren't many places in the world frequented by Libyan tourists, but Malta is one of them.

There was a Libyan in the guest room beside mine and, in a moment of madness, I had used my only three words of Arabic, giving him the impression that I spoke it fluently.

He talked to me in voluble outbursts, then switched to hesitant French, and told me how to get water in the desert by slitting a camel's neck.

When it comes to languages, Malta is a confusing place. Maltese is related to Arabic, but turn on the TV and you're likely to get a blast of Italian from across the sea. Many locals also use idiosyncratic English, a legacy of the British who controlled the island until the 1960s.

At times, Malta also came under the rule of Romans, Arabs, Normans, Aragonese, Knights of St John and the French. The exhausted Maltese are now enjoying their independence, but you can feel the weight of their history in every syllable.

"Good evening" sounds like French (bonswa), "excuse me" like Italian (skuzi) but "please" sounds like – well, I never did work out how to pronounce jekk joghgbok.

Unravelling the language and history of Malta is one of the great pleasures of a visit to this tiny Mediterranean country. It starts at Ghar Dalam in the east of the island, where you can visit a prehistoric cave and inspect the remains of a dwarf elephant and a hippo.

Later, the Maltese built sophisticated temples. Tarxien is the best known, but really looks like a jumble of old stones. Better to head to Hagar Qim and Mnajdra, which impress with monumental entranceways and a spectacular setting high above the sea.

The temple people disappeared mysteriously, but were replaced by tunnelling early Christians. The Romans who conquered Malta called their underground passageways hypogea when Latin was added to the linguistic cauldron.

The best hypogea are at Hal Saflieni near Tarxien, where you can descend 7m into a labyrinth of carved and painted underground chambers.

In Rabat's catacombs, thousand-year-old skeletons line the walls – which is a sight not for the squeamish, but actually strangely moving.

Inside the church in Rabat you can also see the grotto in which St Paul sheltered when shipwrecked off Malta in 60AD. Legend has it that any stone removed from the grotto will grow back again, but a caretaker lurks in the corner to ensure you don't put this claim to the test.

Close to Rabat, the exquisite town of Mdina is one of the highlights of Malta. It was the Maltese capital during two centuries of Arab occupation. The glorious town is full of bell towers and baronial mansions topped with coats-of-arms, while the cathedral is a baroque madness of heraldic slabs and noble tombs. The nave smells of cloves and is full of whispering women, whose muted prayers hiss and rattle around the statues.

By evening, the sun stains the medieval walls of Mdina pink, illuminating the faces of old men sitting in the cafes, as pigeons flutter from baroque perches.

Mdina is probably further from the sea than any other point in Malta, which isn't saying much. Distances are short, and driving a rental car is relatively easy – although according to a local joke, the Maltese highway code produces the country's shortest book.

Public transport is frequent and a good alternative, allowing you a glimpse of island life.

The dilapidated Ford buses are easy to use, provided you aren't unnerved by the drivers, who peer through windscreens covered with dangling Virgin Mary figures and stickers imploring "Holy Face of Jesus save this bus".

Either way, in just a few short prayers you can be on the northern coast, where resort towns straggle for miles, including St Julian's, Bugibba, Mellieha Bay, Paradise Bay.

Sadly, no one will be admiring these concrete blocks in centuries to come, and Australians will be unimpressed with the beaches crammed with northern European sun-worshippers.

The south coast is more rugged and worth some time. The idyllic bay at Ghajn Tuffieha can only be reached on foot – just as well, because you'd never be able to say its name to a bus driver.

From here, the road leads past the dizzying Dingli Cliffs to Ghar Lapsi, a deep bay whose gin-clear waters are ideal for diving. The famous Blue Grotto makes a pleasant half-hour boat trip.

Aim to end the day at Marsaxlokk, the prettiest fishing village in Malta. The harbour is crowded with brightly painted boats, and the outdoor cafes offer good seafood. Entertain yourself by puzzling over the menu, on which you'll find mqaret, qaqocc and qarabali.

Maltese may be the only Semitic language written in Roman letters, but sometimes you have to wonder if that actually helps.

Any visit to Malta ends (and begins) in its capital, Valletta. The fortified Renaissance city is an absolute marvel, where the grid of streets offers ever-changing glimpses of church spires and domes. Flights of steps cascade in marble, and views from the fortifications look over one of the world's great natural harbours.

The Knights of St John ruled Malta for several centuries, and Valletta is stamped with their influence. The Grand Master's Palace is a visual feast of patterned timber ceilings, marble floors and opulent tapestries.

Next door, the Cathedral of StJohn is a splurge of baroque colour. The floor is covered in grinning angels and skeletons, and a superb Carravaggio painting hangs in the vestry.

In case you're wondering, Italian was the official language for the knights. Most of Valletta's streets are named after Italian saints and the odd archbishop.

When the British came along they added Abercrombie, Hastings and Victoria. Even the grand old Duke of York got an avenue. Cricket, red telephone boxes and a liking for custard tarts were also left behind.

The secret of appreciating Malta is to look and listen to the words that are all around you.

Despite a long and troubled history, the Maltese just go on talking in all the tongues of their conquerors – effortlessly, and nearly always with a smile.